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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166243">little birds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch/pseuds/BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch'>BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>“march” drabbles [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hiveswap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Asphyxiation, Drabble, F/F, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt No Comfort, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad Ending, Unrequited Love, graphic depiction of death in general, short and not sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:49:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch/pseuds/BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>the birds are singing again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>?????? Elwurd/Bronya Ursama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>“march” drabbles [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>little birds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>the birds are singing again.</p><p> </p><p>usually, elwurd would ignore this. she would go on with her days of struggling to do basic tasks thanks to this disease.</p><p> </p><p>she denies it exists. she’s totally not still in love with bronya. sure, she still keeps her jacket, but she’s over that, she says. she hopes.</p><p> </p><p>but, trapped to her couch, she knows she’s going to die.</p><p> </p><p>the flowers growing in her chest were filling up her lungs as she vomited them up, their multicoloured petals spilling all over her floors. she couldn’t breathe anymore, couldn’t even move her limbs.</p><p> </p><p>and so, she lays. she had what she needed.</p><p> </p><p>she takes in her house, her final moments alive. she’s holding bronya’s soft jacket, trying to take in as much of its unique smell as she can while her lungs refuse to intake air.</p><p> </p><p>her lusus curls around her, softly crying. the hand that isn’t clutching bronya’s jacket lays limp against her fur, twitching occasionally as elwurd attempts to pet her.</p><p> </p><p>she wishes she could say some last words to the snow-white wolf, but she can barely even breathe past the flowers in her lungs.</p><p> </p><p>from start to end, her lusus has been there. she hopes the amount of times she thanked her before she lost her voice to the thorns is enough.</p><p> </p><p>her lusus was the one who scurried away and rested bronya’s jacket on her chest as she’d signalled weakly. she’d fought hard to keep going, but she knew better now.</p><p> </p><p>she’s dying. today’s her last day.</p><p> </p><p>and on her last day, the birds are chirping.</p><p> </p><p>it’s a nice sound. a nice melody to her slow demise.</p><p> </p><p>when she’d first started coughing, she laid her flowers in vases outside the window. oftentimes hummingbirds flew in to inspect. there wasn’t much blood on them then.</p><p> </p><p>now the striped carnations were coated in it, their unique white-red colour scheme overcome by blue.</p><p> </p><p>she’s laid on her side, as her lusus had pushed. she knew it wouldn’t stop her death, but it did make it easier to vomit up another bouquet of blood-soaked flowers whenever they travelled up her lungs.</p><p> </p><p>why did she do it? why did bronya break up with her?</p><p> </p><p>she knows why. she knows they weren’t meant. they were too different and had contrasting ideals.</p><p> </p><p>it doesn’t make it hurt any less.</p><p> </p><p>she knows staying would’ve been unhealthy, but her chest rattles anyways.</p><p> </p><p>she listens to the birds sing, her lusus’ head resting on her shoulder. she can tell her lusus is trying to be strong, but her whimpering breaths choke on her shoulder, vibrations carried.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>bronya used to like hearing the birds sing. she would’ve loved to be here to listen to them now.</em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>her vision greys at the edges, mind fuzzing over. her body grows numb.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>i wish she was here now.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>elwurd’s vision blacks, and her head lols down.</p><p> </p><p>she dies.</p>
  </div></div>
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